


Music

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [52]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Drunkenness, F/M, Holding Hands, House Party, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All these loved-up teenagers,” he said, “and you and me. Mary Anne and Alan. The ol' Spier and Gray.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imamaryanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imamaryanne/gifts).



> This fic also contains background pairings:  
> Kristy/Bart  
> Stacey/Robert  
> Claudia/Pete  
> and mentions of Alan/Kristy, Mary Anne/Logan and Alan/Claudia
> 
> Written for imamaryanne for [fandom_stocking](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/) 2014\. I am also using the prompt "music" from my [babysitters100 table](http://babysitters100.dreamwidth.org/58373.html) \- I hope you don't mind! ♥

* * *

Mary Anne tugged the sliding door open and escaped into the shadows of the porch. It was still hot outside, no breeze to stir away the thick summer air, and the scent of jasmine and lilac hung heavy in the dark.

She was still clutching a red plastic cup in her hand, though this one only had water in it. The punch had been sweet and strong, and her head was still spinning.

She sank down onto one of the loveseats, the cane webbing creaking under her weight. She was intending to lose herself inside her own thoughts for a while – but one of the shadows on the seat next to hers suddenly moved, and she let out a high-pitched yelp.

Alan laughed, tucking one arm behind his head to look at her. “I was wondering how long it'd take for the chicks to come looking for me,” he said.

“Yes, Alan, I was looking for you,” Mary Anne retorted, trying to get her heartbeat back to its normal speed. “You're always on my mind.”

“You're drunk,” Alan said, only sounding mildly surprised. “Wait 'til I tell your dad.”

Mary Anne took a large gulp of water. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Nothing.” He propped his feet up on the arm of the couch he was sprawled on. “ _You're_ out here by yourself.”

Mary Anne pushed her hair back off her brow, feeling hot. “I just need some fresh air.”

Alan's face was mostly in shadow, but she could still see him grinning at her. “How much punch does it take for a good girl to turn very, very bad?”

“Alan,” she said, trying to sound exasperated but not quite getting there. “Don't.”

“What's in the cup?”

“Water.”

He didn't say anything for a while after that. The bass thudded from the house behind them, and a chorus of cheers rose up before scattering away into laughter and shrieks.

“Sounds like it's still going strong in there,” Alan said.

“I guess so,” Mary Anne said, trying to remember the faces still crowded around the kitchen table, the surface wet with trails of beer and melting ice. “I think there are more people upstairs.”

Alan drawled a noise. “Time for some tales from the boudoir?”

Mary Anne looked at him over the curve of her cup of water.

He started ticking names off on his fingers. “Pete and Claud,” he said. “Stacey and RJ.”

“Robert,” Mary Anne corrected.

“Whatever. Logan and Cokie.”

“No,” she retorted. She took another sip of water and folded one arm across her chest.

“Well he's not with _you_ ,” Alan said pointedly.

“He hasn't been with _me_ since eighth grade.”

“Just everyone else,” Alan said, and he laughed. “Whoever, then. He was with someone.”

“Shannon,” Mary Anne muttered. She felt her face getting hot, and it annoyed her. She didn't want to get back together with Logan, but it still stung when he showed interest in anyone else. Especially when nobody was showing interest in her.

“Kilbourne?” Alan asked, lifting his head from the cushion.

“Kristy's upstairs with Bart,” Mary Anne said, and it was partly to vent her own frustration at losing her ally to Bart's attentions, and partly to hurt Alan.

His head dropped back down to the seat. “I figured,” he said eventually.

Mary Anne tapped a fingernail against the side of her cup. “It won't last,” she said after a moment, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing Bart up at all.

Alan looked at her. “Okay,” he said, his tone flat.

“You still like her,” Mary Anne said. Her head wasn't spinning anymore, but she still had the annoying misfortune of not being able to keep quiet.

“Yeah, well, she don't like me,” Alan muttered. “So whatever.”

“She doesn't really like anyone,” Mary Anne said. “She just goes stupid when Bart is around. I don't know why. It's always been that way.”

“Bart breeds stupid,” Alan said.

Mary Anne laughed and cut herself off quickly.

Alan grinned again and slung one arm over his eyes. “All these loved-up teenagers,” he said, “and you and me. Mary Anne and Alan. The ol' Spier and Gray.”

“Alan, shut up,” Mary Anne said tiredly.

“All right, we'll keep it clean, technically,” Alan said. “But those stories don't sell, Mary Anne, so if anyone asks, we did it on the lawn.”

“I'm going back inside,” she said, but she couldn't bring herself to move. As annoying as Alan could be, he was mostly harmless, and the idea of watching Kristy and Bart with their hands all over one another was much less appealing than sitting in the dark listening to him being an ass.

“Are you staying here tonight?” he asked.

“I'm supposed to be,” she said, resting her head back against the hard arch of the loveseat. “Are you?”

“Well I live like 800 miles from here, so I guess so,” he said. “I live on the wrong side of the tracks. In the bad neighbourhood.”

“Stoneybrook doesn't have a bad neighbourhood.”

“I _make_ it bad,” he said. “Haven't you heard my reputation? I’ve got a mugshot up in the post office.”

Mary Anne rubbed her face. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Yes,” he said seriously. “And if you were sober you would have left by now. Is that really water you're drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Well, drink more of it,” he said. He sat up and sprawled out with his knees apart. “How come you got so drunk?”

“I didn't mean to,” she said. She drained her cup of the last mouthful. “I'm not that bad.”

“Yeah, thank god you stopped drinking before you hooked up with Logan again,” he said.

Mary Anne looked at him, not quite sure how to respond. “I don't like him like that anymore.”

“That don't matter after a few drinks,” Alan said. “But you're a girl, so tell me – do I need to become a jock to score around here? Because you girls fall over Logan and Bart all the time, and I don't get it.”

“We do not,” Mary Anne said, annoyed. “Maybe we just want to be with someone who can be serious for more than thirty seconds at a time.”

“Ouch,” Alan said, clutching his chest. He reached over and took her empty cup. “You're still drunk,” he said. “Stay there.”

She watched him disappear back inside the house with her cup, the light from the kitchen catching on his baggy t-shirt and the disarray of his hair. Music spilled from the open doorway, clear and loud, and she could hear Abby laughing.

When Alan came back he sank onto the loveseat beside her, handing her a full cup of cold water before wiping his wet hands on his jeans. “Basketball skills don't transfer over to beer pong, in case you were wondering,” he said. “RJ's getting his ass kicked.”

“I wasn't wondering, but okay,” Mary Anne said.

Alan gave her a look of admiration. “I like you when you're drunk,” he said.

She took several large mouthfuls of water and breathed out a sigh. “I don't,” she said. “I didn't mean to drink so much.”

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Thanks for the water.”

There was another burst of loud cheering from inside.

“Who's still here?” Mary Anne asked.

“Austin, RJ, King, Grace, Trevor, Justin, Abby... I dunno. A few others.”

Mary Anne sifted through a few other names. Claudia and Pete had probably disappeared into a quiet corner or a bedroom upstairs. Robert and Stacey too. And Alan hadn't mentioned Kristy or Bart, and she wasn't sure if that was because they were upstairs too, or because he didn't want to acknowledge either of them at all.

“Have you ever actually been straight with Kristy, and told her you like her?” she asked after a moment.

“She knows,” Alan muttered. “She just doesn't think I’m serious.”

“Well, you're not serious very often,” Mary Anne said.

“When it comes to that, I’m serious,” Alan said. He folded his arms. “Ask Claudia. I was serious about her once.”

“That was a long time ago,” Mary Anne said.

Alan didn't answer her.

“I could talk to her for you,” Mary Anne said, feeling generous. Alan could be an idiot, but he was a more familiar idiot than Bart, and he seemed to care for Kristy beyond moments of casual groping. Mary Anne wasn't convinced Bart felt the same way.

“Doesn't matter,” Alan said. “If it hasn't happened yet, it won't happen now. Especially when we're going to different colleges.” He slid down until his head was resting against the back of the loveseat. “Her loss,” he added.

He reached for her water and took a large gulp of it before handing it back, wiping his mouth against his shoulder. “Who were you making eyes at tonight?” he asked.

“Making eyes?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Bedroom eyes,” he said. “You know, 'come hither, Logan, and make a woman out of me' kind of eyes.”

Mary Anne tried not to laugh, but she found herself giggling against the lip of the plastic cup in her hand. “No one. And especially not Logan. Don't keep saying that, or someone will hear you and think it's true.”

“Okay,” he said amicably. “Maybe you were making eyes at Kristy. Maybe that's why you came out here. Misery is company.”

She wished she was quick enough to retort something sarcastic, but she wasn't.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Alan said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Five seconds ago you were convinced I was after Logan,” Mary Anne said.

“As if Logan wouldn't be up for a slice of tri-pie,” Alan said, holding up three fingers.

Mary Anne smacked his hand away.

He laughed. “Starting to sober up yet?”

“I guess so,” she said. “I came out here to clear my head. I didn't know you were out here. I would have stayed inside.”

“You didn't know, but something drew you here, Spier,” he said. “There was a craving you didn't know how to cure, and so you wandered out here in a fog. But it's okay: here I am.”

“You are literally the most annoying person I know,” she told him.

He grinned at her. “Thanks. And if you're starting to use words like 'literally' you're probably sobering up.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

“Where?” she asked warily, letting him tug her to her feet.

“Bed,” he said. “Like, alone. I'll find you one before they're all taken. What you haven't watered down you can just sleep off.”

She let him lead her inside. Nobody in the kitchen really paid attention; there were only two cups unturned, and the sound of the plastic ball bouncing off the table and the floor was met with loud excitement.

Alan pulled Mary Anne upstairs. “Which one is Kristy's room?” he asked. “I don't want to catch an eyeful of Bart's ass if I can help it.”

“That one,” Mary Anne muttered, eyeing the closed door with a strange sort of resentment in her chest.

They passed by it quickly, and slowed down at the door to Sam's room, which was also closed. Alan eased it open a little and peered in.

“Alan!” Claudia shouted.

“Nothing I haven't seen before,” he said, pulling the door shut with a bang. “Occupado,” he told Mary Anne. “If Pete chases after us I’m gonna need you to stand in front of me.”

“How chivalrous of you,” she said.

“Ah,” he said, leading her on, his grip on her hand not entirely unpleasant. “You're definitely sober now, using words like chivalrous.”

They stopped by the next door. “What's this room?” Alan asked. He pressed his ear to it.

“Charlie's room,” Mary Anne said. “Stacey and Robert are probably in there.”

“If they are, he's not doing very well,” Alan said. “It's quiet.” He eased the door open and held his eye to the gap, before pushing his way into the room. “Empty,” he said.

“There's probably a guest room somewhere,” Mary Anne said, feeling a little weird about being in Charlie's room, even if he'd been away at college for four years now.

“If you want to keep playing bedroom roulette, okay,” Alan said.

She shook her head. “No, let's just stay here.”

She could feel him relax his grip on her hand a little, giving her the opportunity to let go, but she didn't. She told herself she wasn't drunk anymore – not as drunk as she had been, anyway – and that her head was clear enough to make decisions she wouldn't likely regret. Holding Alan's hand was sort of nice.

He shut the door and leaned against it, looking down at her. “You okay?” he asked.

She blinked up at him, relieved he hadn't just left her once they'd found an empty room. Her desire for solitude had long since disappeared. “I'm fine,” she answered him softly.

“You sure? D'you want more water?”

She felt his fingers twitch against hers, and she tightened her hold just a little. “No, I'm okay now.”

He was still looking at her like he didn't quite believe her, a little crease across the bridge of his nose as he frowned. It was nice having somebody's concern. For all the energy she put into independence, sometimes she still wanted someone to take care of her.

She reached for him with her free hand, fingers lightly touching his jaw to draw him down to her.

She felt his hand on her waist when he kissed her, but he broke away quickly, and untangled his fingers from hers.

“Hey, Mary Anne,” he said. “Listen, I’m a dick, but I’m not that kind of dick, okay? You've had a lot to drink.”

“I'm fine,” she insisted, looking up at him. His reaction stung a bit, and she swallowed back her immediate reaction to start crying. “Really, it's okay.”

He kissed her again, but it was slower and softer than she wanted.

“Okay, but – we take it easy,” he said. “I know it'll be hard, because I’m a chick magnet, but let's just take it slow.”

“You're an idiot,” she whispered, and he laughed. His hand nudged her waist again, his body bumping hers and pushing her back a step.

“Did I win you over with my amazing conversational skills?”

Her legs bumped the bed. “Um, maybe you wore me down,” she said, her ease at throwing retorts back at him somewhat diluted now.

He let go of her and fell onto the bed, shoving himself backwards so his head met with a pillow. He watched her crawl up beside him.

“I don't really want to do anything,” Mary Anne said, feeling her face grow hot. She put her head down on the other pillow.

“That's okay.” He took her hand again and they lay side by side staring at the ceiling. The bass was still thumping downstairs, though not at the volume it had been. Mary Anne could hear voices and laughter over the top of it, and the back door banging shut as someone pushed it too hard.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet.

“Don't mention it.” Alan's thumb slipped back and forth over the back of her hand. “Thanks for keeping me company, too.” He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “You said Kristy goes a bit stupid when Bart is around. I guess I go a bit stupid when Kristy is around.”

She gave him a small smile. “A little bit.”

“It's hard to shake off,” he said. “I probably don't even like her that much anymore. I’m just used to it, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Mary Anne said, in what she hoped was a reassuring sort of tone. “I'm a bit like that with Logan. I don't love him, but it's hard to forget being in love with him. It hurts when he reminds me he's not in love with me anymore, even when I shouldn't care.”

“Yeah,” Alan said understandingly. He squeezed her hand. “His loss,” he said.

“Kristy's, too.”

He grinned at her, and she grinned back.


End file.
